Make Up
by feralpixc
Summary: Dean and my character, in one of their angsty fights. Lots of selfdoubt, sex and tears.


Summary: Dean and my character, in one of their angsty fights. Lots of self-doubt, sex and tears.

Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural, or anything linked back to it. Damn... However, I do own Sharika and the larger story this came from. If you liked it, look out for the other one that should come on eventually... Lauren isn't usually this angsty (she isn't usually like this, she's just had too much crack...I think.). And the general story, though very long, is a lot lighter in feeling. Please read and review, its my first EVER fan fic.

_Make Up_

"You don't believe me, do you?" I asked, shocked. "You never did." No, no, NO. _I love YOU, no one else – never anyone else! _

He turned away from me, his face despairing, frustrated – in a harsh grimace that showed the struggle inside him more clearly than anything he'd said, anything he'd done over the past few days. _Lauren – you're going to leave me, you always were. It's a fact of life. I don't – I don't deserve you. You deserve so much – so much better than I can ever give you, _I heard in my mind, his thoughts pouring through the air into my heart – where it almost shattered the fragile calm that lied there, the calm that was holding my heart together.

"Fuck that!" I shouted, stalking forwards, grabbing his shoulder and swinging him around so he'd have to face me. He stared down at me, then realised I'd heard his thoughts, and his eyes flicked away from mine. _Don't you dare ever think that. Don't you dare._ I panted, trying to force the words out, but even now I just couldn't – my pride – _what if he – I can't – what if he leaves anyway? What if he doesn't want me anymore? _He was everything to me. Everything. "Dean…" I almost begged, looking up into his face. _All I want – is you. Always. Please…don't just – I'd never –_ I shook my head, the tears replacing my anger. "Only you," I whispered, staring up into his hazel green eyes. They were the only words I could speak, the only admission I could bear.

His eyes were dark with repressed emotion, his perfectly arched brows a worried line over them. And I couldn't stand it. _That look. Oh god. _

"Please don't cry," he groaned, closing them, beautiful mouth twisting like he was holding back from tears of his own. Though it was Dean. He never, ever cried. He just gave you one of those heart breaking stares, and you'd die a little inside, knowing that you'd done that to him. _Please don't give me that look then. _"I can't stand it when you cry," he said, opening his eyes slowly, and brushing a single tear off my cheek.

"Dean…" I sobbed silently, one hand coming up to cover my mouth, the other spreading to curl around my stomach. I stepped back – away from him. I had to hold myself together. Have to be strong. He couldn't – I can't stand it. I was never – he – I was never good enough for him, never, and now he knew it. He was going to leave me. And he was just –

Dean moaned, and his hard arms came around me, pulling me against him. He bent a little, then grabbed my legs and picked me up. He kissed my eyelids, my nose, my eyebrows, my forehead, brushing his lips everywhere, feather-soft, until they came to the corner of my mouth. I had stopped breathing as soon as he touched me and now I just, I just hung there, dangling over a precipice, waiting. The dark waters threatened to swallow me whole, and I stared back into them, willing them to do so if he pulled back, if he just – I can't _live_ without him. It's an impossibility. My eyes were still closed, the warm tears tricking like silent prayers down my cheeks. _Don't go. _When his lips reached there, the left side of my mouth, he paused, and his breath exhaled a warm path across the skin of my cheek. He placed a tiny firm kiss to the edge, then trailed back up to my temple. He rested his cheek there, and I heard his gasps, his attempt to calm himself, and felt his hands clenching on my thighs, knowing he was trying to make himself let go of me. _Oh no you don't. _

My legs were around his waist, he was holding me up by the backs of my thighs, taking all my weight and standing there strong and unmovable – unchangeable. I hoped.

_Don't go. _

_I won't let you. _

I shoved my hands into his dark blonde hair, wrenching his head by the hair until his mouth crashed into mine. He froze for a second, a single second in which I felt as though I would crumble into dust and wither away if he didn't respond, if he just pulled back and – and then he kissed me back.

As always we were desperate for each other – it hadn't changed, all this time. All this time I still ached with the intensity, still felt overwhelmed and frantic and like I'd die unless I had him _now_ – unless I could have inside me, all around me, everywhere until I couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't breathe without him. I needed him so much – and I wanted him so badly, and these words were useless to convey the depth and I just know that if he ever leaves... If I couldn't have him, I knew my soul would just crawl into a dark hole and shrivel away until I was a shell of a person, incomplete, dead inside. Without him. He was everything that completed me, that held me together, that allowed me to exist. If he left –

_No, never. _

I grabbed his lower lip with my teeth and bit down on it until he moaned, his short, square nails digging into my thighs. It was a clear message – _Don't you dare leave me. _

I let go of his lip, slanting my head so I could soothe it with a softer kiss. I was in total control of this interaction seeing as how his hands were busy, and his attention was on keeping us up. And he knew it.

I moved my hands closer to his face, dragging my palms through his short, absurdly soft hair, and stroked the corners of his eyes with my thumbs. _I love you. _

My hands clenched in his hair again. _I need you. _

We'd always talked so much better with our bodies than our words, and as he fell forwards onto the bed, me still wrapped around him, we told each other just how we felt.

His hands claiming my breasts, as he stole the air out of my mouth – _you are Mine. _My legs tightening on his waist as he thrust, still fully clothed, against me – _as you are Mine. _His hands lifting me from beneath my back, bending me over his arms, and crushing me even closer to his chest as he deepened the kiss – _I need you._ My nails digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, trailing over his back, as I panted, struggling to breathe against his lips – _ohgodyes. _

And suddenly there were no barriers and he thrust again and I welcomed him inside me, clenching until he froze and just looked down at me, and I up at him. There was always that eternal moment as soon as he entered me; we still couldn't quite believe the completion, the total sense of oneness that overtook us when we were connected like this – as though we were one entity, as we were in everything else. Everything else we could never express in any way but this.

And then he was moving again and it was all breathlessness and heat and murmurs of '_I love you_', and desperate cries of '_don't leave me_' and him kissing the tears away from my cheeks. And I just clung to him and cried and tried not to think, because if he ever left me I wouldn't survive and he knew that.

"Never," he grunted fiercely, stilling. His hard, heavy body lay poised against mine, and I could feel the tension radiating off of him. In contrast my body was molten, soft and pliable and malleable. I was melting. "Lauren, look at me –" he struggled to get his voice past his desire thickened throat. It was harsh and hard and commanding, and I sobbed, opening my eyes, to see him looking down at me. His eyes were ablaze with everything he was keeping in, and his face was tight and impassive with the control he was trying to keep over his body. "I will never, _ever_ leave you. If you promise me – if you promise –" a nerve in his jaw jumped and his eyes closed, as he struggled to get the words out. We were both kind of bad at the tell all pillow talk thing, well, any talk except annoying the hell out of each other, fighting and yelling and teasing and cajoling and –

"I promise," I whispered, knowing exactly what he meant. _If you promise not to leave me too._ I removed my hand from his shoulder to glide down his face and pressed a finger against the tic. "You're too hard to get rid of."

"Then stop crying, I'm not that horrible," he said, trying in his usual fashion to make light of the situation. He opened his eyes and if he had been able to move his face, I knew he would have grinned.

"Not by half," I said, laughing – and then he made me moan as he moved against me again, and kissed my mouth, stilling all other words. Later, tangled together amidst sweaty, tired sheets that had seen it all too many times, head pressed against his shoulder, I repeated it. "Not by half."


End file.
